I wrote this in early 2005 for a nonfiction class. You'll notice Tom makes an appearance in this one!
Zooming
down the entrance road to the Omaha
airport at ninety miles an hour, rushing through stop signs and red lights my
brother, Ben, and I look at each and shake our heads. “Not again” we are both thinking. We quietly hear our Mom say, “Denny slow down
a little,” in a frantic yet calm voice.
“If we miss this flight we are not going, we’ll just turn around and go
back home,” our Dad replied sternly and kept his foot on the pedal. It was still dark, about 4:30 in the morning, and our flight for Amelia Island
was to take off at 5:00. The entrance to the airport was as long as it
had ever been, with more stop signs then any of us had remembered in the
past. Up a head we all saw a car with
something on its hood, and as we got closer I heard my Dad ask my Mom if it was
illegal to pass a police. I knew this
was as close as we had come to missing a flight.
Once
we got onto the airport property my Dad started yelling instructions for each
of us to do once the car stopped. I was
to get out and grab whatever I could. My
Mom was to run inside to the check in counter and tell them we had made it and
not to let the plane leave yet. My
Brother and my Dad were to quickly get all of the luggage out of the back, and
Ben was to drag it inside with my help while my Dad sped off to park the car.
After
getting quickly checked in the three of us, my Mom, Ben, and I ran to the gate
so they would know we were here. We
waited what seemed like an eternity watching down the hallway for my Dad to
arrive from parking the car but there was no sight of him. The time was now 4:51 and one of the flight
attendants came up to my mom and said, “Mam, we cannot wait any longer for your
husband. We have to push back from the
gate. Are you prepared to fly without
him?” Quickly my mother produced some
tears and emotionally said, “No.” Ben
and I looked at each other and at our mom and said, “We are, we want to
go!” Without hesitation we got out our
boarding passes and handed them to the lady.
Right as we turned our backs from watching the hallway my dad appeared
and we all were able to board the plane with out anymore delay.
Once
in the air we all looked at each other and began laughing. We knew this was our closest call yet to
missing a flight. Every time we go on
vacation it starts like that. Dad never
starts packing until at least two hours before it is time to leave the house
for the airport. And as we are throwing
the last bags into the car, he is shoving his last pair of shoes into someone
else’s bag. Just recently my boyfriend
went on vacation with us to Jamaica
and when we arrived we dug into our bags to get our bathing suits out and Tom,
my boyfriend, grabbed out some loafers from the top of his bag and asked, “Who
the hell are these?” I just started
laughing knowing they were my dad’s.
Once we finally
leave the house we usually return twice.
First because mom thinks she has left the curling iron or coffee pot on,
and second because dad asks mom if she has the tickets and she panics and
doesn’t think she does, even though generally they are in her purse. If we actually make it to the airport in time
to grab some breakfast we consider it successful.
After
we all gave dad some crap for driving so fast and remembered the other fifty
times we had been late, almost missing our flights, we turned on our head
phones and settled in for a nap, knowing when we arrived we would be met with
warm Florida air, and our friends, the Whinnery’s from Texas, who would have
landed the night before.
As
the Captain told us to buckle our safety belts and the flight attendants told
us to put up our tray tables and seat backs we anxiously awaited the landing. Once on the ground we were surprised not to
see the Whinnery’s who were to be meeting us.
We went to the baggage claim and got all of our bags and decided to wait
outside in the warm air. We waited for
about an hour, and finally dad decided we should try and call them. He got out the hotel’s number and they told
him that the Whinnery’s had not checked in yet.
My dad became worried knowing that he and Dr. Whinnery had planned the
whole vacation without their wives help, and feared something might have gone
wrong. He then tried to call the
Whinnery’s cell phone. Dr. Whinnery
answered and my dad asked where they were.
He said they were in Texas
and wondered what we were doing in Florida. It turned out we should never have let our
dad plan us a vacation without any help.
He booked our flights for the wrong week. We were there a week early!
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